


Loose Lips Sink Ships

by NewLeeland, Thrawnduil



Series: Imperial Shipping [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Everybody Knows It, Culinary Thrawn, Humor, Hux learns how to human, Krennic and the Salad Chronicles, Modern AU, Modern AU - Cargo shipping, Motti is a douche, Multi, Or Is he?, Or at least what the authors think humor is, Ozzel is incompetent, Saw is very unhinged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLeeland/pseuds/NewLeeland, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrawnduil/pseuds/Thrawnduil
Summary: Part III of the Imperial Shipping series: The MS Kenley is finally on its way down the Panama Canal. But as if several small incidents on board aren't enough to bother Captain Tarkin, some new trouble is brewing down the waterway...





	Loose Lips Sink Ships

**Author's Note:**

> "Imperial Shipping" returns! If you haven't read parts one and two: You really should.

* * *

Nobody knew how Ozzel had obtained the helm and in hindsight no one would ever let him near it again. One moment the MS Kenley was heading straight for the canal, the next moment her bow was facing the harbour walls.

With a feat of strength belying his slender and thin frame Tarkin slammed into Ozzel, shoving the far heavier man aside. With an iron grip he clutched the helm jerking the wheel violently to alter their course.

“You blubbering imbecile,” he thundered once he had brought the MS Kenley back on a safer course.

Simultaneously the ship’s intercom beeped and the very distinctive snarl of Orson Krennic rang through the room. “Are we blind? Who let Ozzel out?”

While Veers and Needa tried very hard not to show their amusement, Tarkin merely sighed. He rubbed his eyes in a gesture of heartfelt tiredness. “Be gone Ozzel. Needa find something for him to do that won’t cause lasting damage.”

Needa seemed to black out for a moment, unable to come up with any idea of a useful task Ozzel could manage on his own. It was a tall order.

Finally Veers came to his rescue, whispering into his ear. Needa’s eyes lit up in glee and he eagerly nodded. “Come along Ozzel, you can count the cacao plants in the cargo hold.” Ozzel mumbled something incoherent but allowed himself to be led away by Needa.

When both were gone, Veers cleared his throat. “Beg your pardon, Sir, but why do we keep him?”

Tarkin sighed once more. “I have an agreement with his brother, Third Officer Veers. We take Ozzel off his hands for nine months and in return he promised to procure several lucrative contracts. Rest assured half of his time on our ship is already over.”

* * *

A very hesitant knock rudely interrupted Yularen’s well-earned nap. Usually the ship’s medbay was the perfect place to get some sleep. With a sigh he buttoned up his uniform, checking his appearance in the mirror once more before he made his way to the door.

Upon opening he was confronted with a sadly familiar sight. Ozzel bleeding in some kind of form was by no means uncommon. The clumsy fool always seemed to find a way to injure himself.

Secretly Yularen wondered whether Ozzel was trying to get some form of payment or even compensation from his stay on board. At the rate he was going, however, all he would be getting, was a Darwin award.

This time, however, he was not alone, but in the company of one of their newest crew member. Yularen faintly remembered the young man’s name. “Mitaka, was it?” he politely asked the human crutch, Ozzel was currently leaning on. He ignored Ozzel like any sane person should.

“Yes, Sir. There was an accident Sir. He stumbled and fell.”

Yularen wasn’t convinced. Not that Ozzel was not stupid enough to fall by himself, but usually the buffoon then came by himself, not involving other crew members in his idiocy. “Alright, Ozzel step through, you know the drill, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Ozzel disappeared into the medbay amidst undiscernible grumbling.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Yularen turned to Mitaka: “What did he do? The true version now?” he asked wearily. Mitaka seemed conflicted about whether to tell him more or stay with what he said. But finally Yularen’s grandfatherly features won him over. The man somehow made him feel safe.

“He, Ozzel, came into the cargo hold, where I was making sure that the plants securely stored. I… I don’t know why he was suddenly there, and he was so angry. He tried to hit me but at the edge of the stairs and missed, and then he tumbled down.”

Yularen could not suppress the heartfelt sigh at the sheer stupidity and incompetence of Ozzel. “Don’t worry,” he patted the young man’s shoulder in a fatherly gesture. “Ozzel has the luck of the dumb. He’ll be fine.” Mitaka would learn in time that one did not need to worry about Ozzel. His bark was worse than his bite. He sent the young crewmember back to his task and went into the medbay to have a look at the resident fool.

* * *

Hux had taken it for a joke when Krennic had told him to accompany him to lunch. This had never happened on his father’s ship. Hux senior thought one meal per day was sufficient for his crew - especially for his son, who had to make do with even less.

“After all we wouldn’t want anyone to think I favour you,” the man used to say.

Armitage’s eyes widened at the sight of their meal. Seared chicken breast with vibrant green beans. And the smell made his mouth water already.

“Pan-seared chicken breast on a bed of green beans,” Thrawn announced almost reverently. “The flesh has been marinated for ten hours to make it especially tender. Please don’t forget to leave some helpful remarks. Enjoy!”

Although he was dying to get a taste, Hux waited excitedly until Captain Tarkin at the head of the table started eating. His father would have beaten the living daylights out of Armitage would he have dared to start before him.

Thankfully, Captain Tarkin was only focused on his own plate and didn’t pay the rest of the crew any mind. It was better that way.

Ozzel had already begun stuffing his face. How he had managed to get bits of green beans into his beard and all over his face was a mystery to everyone.

On his right Motti was busy complaining. About what nobody knew because nobody cared to listen to him.

Krennic had taken the other place next to Motti, which had surprised everyone, considering how much he loathed the other man. The reason for this was soon revealed though. While Motti was focused on his rant, Krennic skillfully removed the briefcase Motti always carried with him. It was common knowledge to every crewmember that it contained only two things: Smokes and playboy magazines.

On Krennic’s other side Romodi had left his beans alone, muttering something about a hate as old as time for the poor vegetables.

Krennic did not hesitate and with quick, smooth movements that would have made a master thief proud, he stole the beans, threw them into Motti’s briefcase while removing the cigarette pack and pocketing it. The whole maneuver had taken three seconds, leaving Motti none the wiser. Romodi just noticed his beans had disappeared and he gave Krennic a barely noticeable nod in gratitude.

Only then did Krennic notice that he had a generous amount of salad right beside his main plate.

“Why thank you, Thrawn. I’m so glad you remembered my … preferences.” He gave the cook a conspiratorial wink, which Thrawn - as usual - ignored.

On the other side of the table Needa and Veers observed the engineer very carefully.

Hux refrained from gripping his plate with both hands, as to make sure it would not be taken from him. It was a whole new experience and he was unsure how to behave. The food actually tasted like food and to him it was pure heaven. No one seemed to be in a hurry, least of all Captain Tarkin, who ate meticulously, cutting his food into perfect bites to savour every morsel.

“Adema, pray tell me, I’ve heard quite an interesting story about the cuisine aboard your former ship. Is it true that Ramda’s cook was renowned for his utterly disgusting recipes?” Krennic inquired with a far too sweet smile.

Adema had the decency to blush if only because he suddenly was the centre of attention. “Yes that is true, Sir,” he stammered. “His octopus pie especially. Made half the crew too sick to work.”

“Ah, Ramda. The seven seas are undoubtedly a safer place without him,” Krennic almost sighed.

Adema could not stop himself from applauding enthusiastically.

* * *

Wielding a branch he had picked up somewhere - not cut from a tree, he insisted - Saw Gerrera appeared to be more of a drill master or a rebel leader planning a new ambush than an environmental activist. Yet almost everyone - Bodhi himself, Cassian and Jyn were exceptions - seemed to be blindly loyal to the man.

“Listen up, comrades, our plan of attack is simple.” He smacked the end of the branch on a whiteboard that had a clumsy, yet fairly accurate drawing of the Panama Canal on it. “I have borrowed a dozen jet skis. That means twelve of you will be the the hunters and herd our prey towards the Rogue Wave. I will be in command of the Rogue Wave and guard the end of the canal. Fortuna, you split your teams in battlegroups one and two to surround the ship and make sure it won’t escape us.”

“You will enter the canal here.” Another smack followed his words immediately. “It should take no more than five minutes to reach the open sea from there. For this duration, you got to keep him boxed up. I’m trusting you. DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME!”

Grim nods and an unintelligible chorus sufficed as a reply and Saw barely inclined his head in a sparse gesture. “One more thing: These walkie-talkies” - he pointed to a bucket containing the old pieces on a table near the exit - “will be used by the battlegroups to keep in contact with the Rogue Wave. Now, let’s go hunt!”

Bodhi had heard lots of stories about this man and even Lyra had admitted Saw spent more time at protests than at work. Well, one could argue protests were his work. But right now, he felt like being in the middle of a gang of river pirates planning a raid on a paddle steamer. The evidence was never proven and apart from the word of one of Saw’s men - and Bodhi didn’t trust this bunch at all - nothing even pointed towards something illegal with the shipment.

He told Jyn and Cassian as much and he was relieved that they did agree. Mostly. They still wanted to be a part of Battlegroup One in order to make sure Saw wasn’t mistaken and driving towards a jail sentence. Against his better judgement, Bodhi joined the band that was headed for the minivans that would carry them to the end of the canal. After all, he was the best at handling any sort of vehicle. And someone had to make sure this whole ludicrous affair wouldn’t end in total desaster.

* * *

José Ernesto Calderón de Souza was a jovial man and the best commander one could ask for. His friendly behaviour endeared him to subordinates and superiors alike and serving under him meant two things: he would have your back but you’d better deliver. His standards were high.

Which was why Baze Malbus and Chirrut Îmwe were quite honored the dreadlock-wearing officer had chosen them for patrol duty at the end of the canal. It was the hardest part of the job considering the huge amount of sea traffic, but in Chirrut’s learned opinion, better be busy than be bored.

Still, the sheer importance of the canal usually ensured that there was little trouble at all. The sun was shining brightly, a refreshing gale welcomed their ship when they left the harbour base and even the usually grim Baze sported a slight smile. Today was going to be a very good, relaxing day indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Krennic is about to drop a new mixtape.  
> \- It is a rumour that the only frequent patient of Yularen is Ozzel. Looking at the average age of the crew of the MS Kenley this is a remarkable fact.  
> \- While Hux Senior is regarded as one of the most despicable beings, Ramda might be one of the most incompetent.  
> \- José Ernesto Calderón de Souza was named for Panama’s backup goalkeeper and was partially inspired by a waiter at our favourite pub and writing HQ.  
> \- No ships were sunk in the writing of this chapter and no lips were loosened.  
> \- It is entirely wrong to claim that Imperial Shipping’s titles have nothing to do with their content.


End file.
